


Changing Outcomes

by tuesday



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Adult Peter Parker, Blow Jobs, Car Sex, Drunk Sex, First Time Blow Jobs, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:27:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21839713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesday/pseuds/tuesday
Summary: "Don't fuck this up," Dr. Strange says.  He makes a motion, and Peter isn't sitting in Dr. Strange's house on Bleeker Street anymore.  He was supposed to concentrate on a landing point, a place where he'd be useful.Peter forgot to concentrate.  He's already fucking this up.  He's in a casino somewhere.  There's Mr. Stark, except he's younger.  He's got his hair slicked back.  He's throwing dice and surrounded by women.  He looks kind of sleazy, actually.  Peter feels a pang of such intense longing that he doesn't immediately move on.  He stops and stares from across the room.  He tells himself five more minutes.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 17
Kudos: 434





	Changing Outcomes

**Author's Note:**

> This has been done since October 19 according to gdocs, but I totally forgot to post it. Have some surprise Peter/Tony in the middle of my small fandoms exchange season. My next P/T fic posted will probably either be WIP Amnesty at the end of the year (depending on if I decide to abandon the Fallout fusion and Still Bleeding) or MTH fic in the new year. I promise despite how matching has gone in exchanges recently that cnovels and MXTX fandom have not entirely swallowed me whole, though they're definitely going to continue seeing activity.
> 
> I realized back in October that the longer version of this particular fic was never going to happen, so have the more open-ended version that was mostly an excuse for Peter/2008!Tony.
> 
> Content notes with spoilers are in the end notes. Please feel free to ask if you have any questions or special concerns.

"Time travel via magical means is different than what the Avengers used," Dr. Strange tells Peter solemnly. "You won't be creating alternate timelines. For the duration of your travel, in many ways, you will be the only thing that is real. Until you end the spell, the outcome can still change. You will be affecting your own timeline. Do you understand?"

They've been over this a thousand times. "I've got it."

"Don't fuck this up," Dr. Strange says. He makes a motion, and Peter isn't sitting in Dr. Strange's house on Bleeker Street anymore. He was supposed to concentrate on a landing point, a place where he'd be useful.

Peter forgot to concentrate. He's already fucking this up. He's in a casino somewhere. There's Mr. Stark, except he's younger. He's got his hair slicked back. He's throwing dice and surrounded by women. He looks kind of sleazy, actually. Peter feels a pang of such intense longing that he doesn't immediately move on. He stops and stares from across the room. He tells himself five more minutes.

A big bruiser of a guy comes over. He says, "Mr. Stark would like to talk to you."

Oh, wow, this was a time when Mr. Stark still had personal security. Probably it would be suspicious to disappear into thin air just because Peter doesn't want to face a Tony Stark who won't recognize him.

"Hello there," Mr. Stark says with a flirty smile when Peter's close enough to talk. He looks Peter up and down without shame, which Peter has a lot of feelings about that he doesn't want to examine too closely. "I saw you staring. Did you want an autograph?"

The back of Peter's neck feels hot. He is _so bad_ at this. He squeaks, "I'm good."

"You sure?" Mr. Stark's once over this time is slower. Peter can feel his gaze like a physical touch.

"Yeah, I'm good," Peter says.

"What about giving you something else to remember me by?" Mr. Stark asks.

Holy shit.

Peter is tempted. Peter is so tempted.

But Mr. Stark doesn't know who he is.

"That's a very generous offer," Peter prevaricates. "But it's probably not a good idea."

Mr. Stark shrugs. "Fair enough. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, but I'd want to bring you home and take my time."

"I should probably get going," Peter says awkwardly. He doesn't want to go. He wants to stay and luxuriate in a time when Mr. Stark is still alive.

"Or you could stay. Have a drink. Blow—" Mr. Stark actually, honest to goodness waggles his eyebrows. "—on my dice for me."

"One drink," Peter says, hating himself a little. He has the time. He has all the time in the world.

"One drink coming right up." Mr. Stark gestures at a member of his entourage.

One drink turns into three turns into leaning over to blow on Mr. Stark's dice for him after all turns into a younger Colonel Rhodes appearing with some sort of award and a great deal of annoyance turns into Mr. Stark putting a hand to the back of Peter's neck and chivvying him out the casino doors with him turns into Peter waiting in the back seat of one of Mr. Stark's cars as he talks with a reporter.

"What are you doing?" Peter asks himself, face flushed and regretting that his enhanced metabolism means that he gets drunker faster rather than that it doesn't work on him.

"If you want to get out, now would be the time to do it," a younger Happy tells Peter from the driver's seat. "Mr. Stark will respect a no at any point, but it's easier to go home when you're not already in Malibu."

Peter should get out of the car. Turn a corner. Figure out a different, more useful time to go to and activate the spell again.

Peter stays in the car.

Mr. Stark gets in. He slides a hand across Peter's shoulder, then up his neck. He makes a fist in Peter's hair. He says, "Airport, let's go," to Happy, then pulls Peter into a kiss. There's no partition, but Mr. Stark doesn't hesitate to haul Peter into his lap. Peter goes with it.

"How old are you?" Mr. Stark asks.

"Twenty," Peter says, even though he should be keeping all personal information to himself.

"I should probably care more about the fact I bought you all those drinks," Mr. Stark says. He tugs at Peter's hair, dragging his head back. "But I really don't." Mr. Stark smiles darkly. "You look like someone who likes it rough. Do you like it rough, Peter?"

Peter has a moment of regret that he told Mr. Stark his first name somewhere between drinks two and three, because he'll never be able to unhear the way Mr. Stark says it in this moment, low and predatory. The sound goes straight to Peter's dick. Peter gasps as Mr. Stark sucks hard at his neck. Mr. Stark follows that up with biting down.

"Yeah, you do," Mr. Stark says with satisfaction as he rubs at Peter through the front of his jeans. He pops the button.

"Mr. Stark," Peter gasps as Mr. Stark pulls the zipper down.

"You can call me Tony," Mr. Stark says. He pulls Peter's dick out. "Or not. Whatever you're comfortable with."

Peter muffles an almost hysterical laugh in the shoulder of Mr. Stark's blazer. "I may be a bit too comfortable."

"The windows are tinted, and Happy doesn't mind. Do you, Hap?"

Happy's silence is pointed.

Mr. Stark grins. "He doesn't mind."

"Holy shit," Peter breathes as Mr. Stark confidently jacks him off in the back of his car, not even trying to draw it out. His eyes are intent on Peter's face, adjusting as Peter's expression changes. It's really good, and not just because that's Mr. Stark's hand on Peter's dick or because Peter has a lingering sensitivity problem since the whole Spider-Man thing. Mr. Stark's grip is sure, not too loose, not too tight. Peter's leaking pre-come all over, and Mr. Stark spreads it around, easing the way. Peter doesn't last long at all. He comes while they're still in traffic, getting semen all over Mr. Stark's dress shirt, jacket, and hand.

"That was fast," Mr. Stark says.

Peter wonders if it would be too much to choose a new point to jump to _now_. He stutters a mortified, "Sorry."

"I get it. Sometimes I'm a bit too much to handle," Mr. Stark says with a smile like he's inviting Peter to join in on the joke. It's only a little mean. "I'm flattered and I wanted to take the edge off anyway. It'll be a long flight. I know how you can make it up to me." Mr. Stark holds his hand up to Peter's mouth. Almost gently, he says, "You don't have to do anything you don't want to do."

Peter meets Mr. Stark's gaze like he's accepting a dare. He grabs Mr. Stark's wrist. He drags his tongue along Mr. Stark's palm, his wrist, his fingers. Mr. Stark sticks three of them in his mouth, index to ring finger, and Peter sucks.

"You have a great mouth," Mr. Stark says. "Have you ever used it for sucking someone's dick?"

Peter doesn't want to answer that. He curls his tongue around Mr. Stark's middle finger.

"You look like a fast learner." Mr. Stark removes his fingers. He wipes his hand on Peter's shirt. He pushes Peter off his lap and to the floorboard. He unzips his pants and draws himself out. He says, "Why don't you show me what a fast learner you are, Peter?"

Mr. Stark doesn't know Peter, can't know what this is doing to him. Mr. Stark slides his hand into Peter's hair. He tugs lightly, then harder.

"You can tap out anytime," Mr. Stark reminds Peter when he doesn't move at first. "I'd be perfectly happy to jerk off all over that pretty face if you'd rather not let me come down your throat. Or we can drop you off wherever you want, no more orgasms necessary."

Peter doesn't want this to be over. "I'm right where I want to be."

Peter is a fast learner. He knows the obvious. No teeth. Wet is good. He starts with licking at the side of Mr. Stark's dick, then the head, tonguing at the slit. Mr. Stark doesn't rush him, watching with a lazy smile. He alternates petting at Peter's hair and curling it around his fingers and yanking. Considering Peter moans damn near every time, it's not as rude as it sounds. Peter reaches a hand down and palms at his own dick.

"Are you getting hard again?" Mr. Stark sounds delighted. 

Instead of answering, Peter sticks Mr. Stark's dick in his mouth. He sucks. As distractions go, it's not bad. Peter takes a little in, then more. The head of Mr. Stark's dick hits the back of his throat, and Peter pulls off to cough.

Mr. Stark's expression is a mix of sympathetic and annoyed. "We can try something else."

"I can do this," Peter insists.

"Okay, but slow," Mr. Stark says. 

And Peter does. He goes slow. He only gets a couple inches in, but he gets the rest of Mr. Stark with his hand. After a few minutes, Peter's jaw aches from the unfamiliar position. He's drooling, but when he looks up, Mr. Stark doesn't look disgusted. Peter keeps going, taking Mr. Stark further again. He's too big. Eyes watering, Peter tries to relax his throat.

Mr. Stark slides down with a quietly exhaled, "Shit, kid," and Peter's dick twitches at the words. He can't breathe. He doesn't want to stop. Mr. Stark's tugging at his hair grows more insistent, all in one direction, and Peter pulls off with a pop.

"Nice first effort," Mr. Stark says. He has an odd look on his face. "Really, A+, good job. Nice work proving me right about the fast learner thing." He pets at Peter's hair again, soothing strokes that Peter feels in shivers all the way down his spine. "But I'd rather not have you choke to death on a sharp turn. Come back up here."

Peter goes. Mr. Stark's hands are gentle where they cradle his face. His thumbs brush away the tears on Peter's cheeks. Mr. Stark presses kisses to the corner of his mouth, to the drool on his chin, to the tear tracks on Peter's cheeks.

"Maybe you need something gentler after all," Mr. Stark says speculatively, and Peter shakes his head.

"Be rough with me," Peter says. His voice sounds wrong. "Make me feel it."

"If you're sure," Mr. Stark says.

"I'm sure," Peter says.

Mr. Stark bites at Peter's swollen lips. He pulls Peter's hair again. His hands are bruising when he clutches at Peter's hips and ruts up against him. When they get to the airport, Mr. Stark tucks them both back in, but the second they're in the air, he's pulling their pants back open and bending Peter over the bench seat near the back of the plane. 

He's got three fingers in Peter, working him roughly open, when he says, "Tell me this isn't your first time."

"It's not my first time," Peter says.

"I don't believe you," Mr. Stark says. He slicks up his dick and shoves into Peter. He sets his teeth in the back of Peter's neck. His hand is a little too tight on Peter's dick.

It's terrible. It's perfect.

Peter doesn't think he's going to make it out of this unscathed.

—

He doesn't.

—

When Peter wakes up in Malibu in Tony Stark's bedroom in Tony Stark's bed, he's alone. His clothes are gone. An electronic voice tells him, "Good morning." It tells him weather conditions in Malibu. The room goes from dark to bright as the tinting on the windows goes clear.

Peter buries his face in his knees. "This was a mistake."

Peter gets out of the bed and searches fruitlessly for pants. He could always steal some of Mr. Stark's, but that feels weird. Apparently sleeping with a past version of his mentor is acceptable, but taking his clothes is a bridge too far. Peter's a mess. This is a mess. Eventually, Peter gives up and fashions the sheets into a makeshift toga, because he's not about to wander around naked. 

"Mr. Stark?" he calls as he sticks his head out of the bedroom. "Mr. Stark, I can't find my clothes."

In the time he wanders around Mr. Stark's Malibu house—just as cool as the reruns of MTV's Cribs made it seem—he dithers over a decision he shouldn't be making. Mr. Stark once mentioned offhand in a voice so casual that it came across as intensely serious that Afghanistan had been bad, yeah, but that it had also shaped him into the sort of person who'd fly a nuke into a wormhole, his own personal crucible. Peter shouldn't interfere with that.

Peter wants to interfere with that.

"Peter?" comes a voice that isn't Tony Stark. Peter whirls around to face a Ms. Potts with a pleasantly neutral face, no laugh lines in sight. "Mr. Stark had your clothes laundered."

She passes over a garment bag that contains his jeans, boxers, and t-shirt with a dorky science joke. Peter takes it, feeling awkward. "Thanks."

"There's a car waiting to take you wherever you need to go," Ms. Potts says.

"Is there, like, a bathroom?" Peter really hopes Ms. Potts doesn't remember him after this. She's acting like this is a normal occurrence. She shows him to a bathroom. Peter repeats, "Thanks."

He gets dressed. He knows he already blew his chance to warn Tony—this time. Maybe he can come back next week. 

Yeah, sure, he thinks. And get arrested for trespassing and being a stalker. Is Fatal Attraction out? Or did that come out later? Point being: this is probably Peter's only chance. It's not like Mr. Stark ever saw the same person twice before Ms. Potts.

"Can I, um, can I say goodbye really quick?" Peter asks when he exits the bathroom.

"That would defeat the purpose of my being here," Ms. Potts says with the same distantly pleasant smile.

Peter sighs. "Yeah, that's about what I thought. Could you tell him something for me?"

"I can pass a message on," Ms. Potts says with the sort of tone that says that can doesn't mean is going to.

Peter slumps. But he has to try. They're in the room that looks like a living room when he says, "It probably won't make sense yet, but can you tell him not to go to Afghanistan?"

Ms. Potts freezes. The pleasant smile on her face slides off. She says, "J.A.R.V.I.S.?"

"Sixty seconds," says the electronic voice.

Ms. Potts takes step after careful step backward, away from Peter. Peter has the sense that he just fucked up somehow. It's enforced by the small security team that comes bursting in, weapons trained on him.

Right. Peter doesn't want to stick around for this. He puts his hands up as instructed. He goes to his knees. He says, earnestly as he can, "This isn't a threat. It's a warning."

Mr. Stark comes up from downstairs. He has a gun in his hand, though Peter has no idea if he knows how to use it. "That sounds a lot like a threat."

"Mr. Stark, you should wait downstairs," one of the security agents chides him.

Ms. Potts is edging toward the staircase herself.

"Who are you?" Mr. Stark asks.

"A friend," Peter says. He decides to aim for right before Mr. Stark left. Maybe it'll help his case. A security agent approaches.

Peter disappears.

—

He reappears on an airplane ramp to hear the tail end of what sounds like a diatribe from Colonel Rhodes: "—national security threat."

"You worry too much," Mr. Stark says. He's wearing a suit. He and Colonel Rhodes look down at Peter from the top of the ramp. "Or maybe I don't worry enough. You're right. This is a concern. A very persistent concern."

Colonel Rhodes shoves Tony behind him, into the plane. Peter waves. "Hi, again?"

Colonel Rhodes tackles him. They both go flying into the tarmac. Peter hits his head.

Still. Colonel Rhodes is just a guy. A very well trained, very motivated guy protecting his best friend and someone who is, Peter is now remembering, not just a billionaire, but also an important figure to the American military industrial complex. Colonel Rhodes also became a superhero in his own right. He's certainly showing that potential now, not hesitating to put Peter in a chokehold.

Peter decides he's done what he could. He goes for New York City this time, a couple months from now. Either Mr. Stark will have been kidnapped and returned, or he'll be safe, and Peter can figure out what to do from there. There's no way Mr. Stark will have gone through this without thoroughly checking everyone around him. He'll find out everything he found out before.

—

Peter checks a newspaper. There's nothing about Mr. Stark's triumphant return.

He goes to a library instead and checks the backlog. Colonel Rhodes died in the humvee Mr. Stark was taken from. Mr. Stark never made it out of Afghanistan.

Peter thinks, throat tight, _Good job breaking it, hero._

Dr. Strange said that in many ways, Peter would be the only thing that was real. This isn't real. Peter won't let this be real. Mr. Stark might be dead in the future, but not yet. He can't be. If for no other reason, he needs to live to help save the universe.

Peter goes back to that awkward morning after. He was already there as a time traveler, so he displaces himself, naked in bed. He stares at the ceiling. He listens to J.A.R.V.I.S. tell him weather conditions. He considers what to say. In the end, he says nothing, just waits for Ms. Potts to show up with his clothes.

Peter doesn't know what it says about him that he didn't go back further and refuse the drink, that he kept this. He smiles tremulously at Ms. Potts when she arrives, gets dressed, and accepts a ride into town. He walks down an alleyway and jumps forward.

The first thing he does is check the news. Tony Stark came back safely from his time in Afghanistan, retrieved by longtime friend Colonel Rhodes.

That should be the end of it. Peter should skip forward, do what he was sent here for.

But … there's no limit on this. He has as long as he wants, as long as he can stand to keep trying. He wasn't sent back to fix anything he wanted, but it wasn't like he was forbidden from it, either. Peter runs a hand through his hair, thinking it over. There's so much he can do—so much he wants to do.

The outcome can still change.

Peter goes back to that awkward morning after. He smiles at the view of the ocean as J.A.R.V.I.S. clears the windows and listens to the forecast. He says, "Hey, J.A.R.V.I.S., ask Mr. Stark what he knows about time travel."

Maybe not this iteration, maybe not the next—maybe it'll take months or years—but Peter knows it's going to be a great day.

**Author's Note:**

> Content notes: sex after drinking, time traveler has sex with a character before they knew each other (Peter/Tony; I am talking about Peter/Tony), semi-public sex of the "there is no partition; Happy puts up with too much" variety, references to canon character death (Tony), temporary character death (Tony, Rhodey), rewriting of timelines, brief canon-typical violence.


End file.
